Apparently We're Battlefield Medics
by hufflepuff whump medic
Summary: After Clint Barton is injured while trying to stop a terrorist attack with Captain America and Doctor Strange, the two of them have to treat his wounds.


The situation looked pretty bad. Things had started to go downhill pretty fast as Clint, Stephen, and Cap tried to get the terrorist attack under control. It was chaos. People running and screaming. The wail of sirens. The steady, high pitched beep of a bomb about to go off. Wait, what?

"That doesn't sound good…" said Steve gravely. Clint was shooting at attackers threatening the building with Stephen on his side. Steve ran over to them.

"Bomb! Guys, I hear a bomb counting down!" Steve shouted at them, "Head for the window!" Steve and Stephen quickly made their way to the window, while Clint tried to keep up while simultaneously keeping the enemy at bay. Then, without warning, a huge explosion ripped through the building.

Cap and Dr. Strange protected themselves with magic and Steve's shield, but Clint didn't make it to Stephen in time to be protected by his magical forcefield. Clint felt the shockwave push him back, through the glass and down toward the pavement. He could also feel the heat of the fireball against his skin, it stung as he fell, down toward his death on the pavement.

That was quickly averted when he felt his agonized body hit an orange glass-like barrier, to which slowly lowered him down to the ground. He felt his consciousness fade out of focus, the concerned words of Steve and Dr. Strange a blur. Clint then felt Steve's strong arms scoop him up, cradling Clint's dizzy, aching head on his huge bicep.

"We have to get him out of here, he's really hurt," Clint heard Stephen say.

"Great. Make one of your portals and take us back to Avengers Headquarters," Steve commanded.

"Um… I don't have my sling ring on me…"

"What? Fine, never mind, let's just go to that alley. It's a block away. Far enough from the fighting. The S.W.A.T. Team will take care of the attack," Steve said with finality. The two headed for the alley. Steve looked down at a feeble, hurt Clint, who looked up at his face with a disoriented look.

"Why are there two of you?" he croaked. Captain America just turned to Stephen and said, "I think he hit his head." He then put a comforting hand on Clint's forehead as he carried Clint across the street and toward the alley.

Cap gently laid Clint against the brick wall and loosened the collar of Clint's suit to help him breathe easier. His burnt skin was tender, it hurt at the gentlest touch. He was also sure his arm was broken. He hurt all over, and his head felt all foggy, and he couldn't stop the double vision that was making him dizzy.

Steve could hear Clint hyperventilating. "Clint. I need you to take some deep breaths for me. If you don't calm down, you're going to make it worse," Steve said in a soft voice, "just focus on your breathing. You're working yourself up." Clint took some deep, shaky breaths. He squeezed Steve's hand as he tried to deal with the pain of all the glass shards stuck in him.

"Steve, I'm going to run over to that drugstore down there to get some medical supplies. Just try to keep Clint calm and comfortable as possible," Dr. Strange said. Steve nodded, and then went back to tending to Clint. He took Clint's bow and quiver off his shoulders and laid them next to his shield. Clint winced as Steve gently laid his hand on his arm, which he noticed was warm to the touch and looked very red. Tiny blisters were scattered across his skin.

"Did that hurt?" Steve said apologetically, "I'm sorry. Your arm is burned quite bad. It's all blistered…"

"Don' talk 'bout my arm…" Clint mumbled. He looked awfully uncomfortable just leaning against the brick wall, so Steve made himself useful by trying to find something soft to lay Clint's head on. Hopefully Stephen is going to buy a blanket or towel or something, he thought as he searched.

Five minutes later, Stephen came back with a plastic bag full of supplies. He folded up a small beach towel he found at the drugstore and put it behind Clint's head. The levitation cloak then flew off his back and laid on the ground, and Dr. Strange proceeded to empty the contents of the shopping bag on top of it. He laid out his supplies: tissues, cotton balls, peroxide, tweezers, elastic bandages, splints, assorted bandages and dressings, rubber gloves, and an instant ice pack.

Dr. Strange threw some gloves at Steve and pulled on his own. It was time to put that MD to use once again. Clint's head laid feebly on the beach towel, he looked almost sick. Stephen knew he would have to work quickly but gently so he didn't worsen Clint's physical state.

"Hey, buddy, look at me," Stephen said in a calm voice, "I need you to relax and hold still for me while I get the glass out of your skin, okay?" He then turned to Steve and asked him to support Clint in a sitting position. Clint anxiously eyed the tweezers as Stephen disinfected them with a peroxide-soaked cotton ball.

With cotton, peroxide, and bandages on hand, Stephen came in with the tweezers, but he stopped when he saw that Clint was shivering. "Oh, Clint, you're shaking like a leaf! Listen, it will only hurt for a bit," he said as Steve wiped Clint's forehead with a tissue, "it will only get worse the longer I leave the glass in there."

Steve offered Clint his hand. "Just squeeze it as much as you like, buddy," he said. Clint took a deep breath and nodded. Stephen steadied his hand and went in to pull the first shard out, which was stuck in his burnt and blistered shoulder. Clint flinched and made a noise of discomfort as Stephen yanked it from his tender skin. His hand had a death grip on Steve's, he was holding his breath as Stephen applied some peroxide and taped a dressing to the wound, which stung really bad on his burnt arm.

"Clint, you gotta breathe. Don't hold your breath, it's not good. I know it hurts, but I have to get every last shard out so you don't develop an infection or something," Stephen said in a low, calm tone, "Just focus on my voice. Close your eyes, squeeze Steve's hand, breathe though the pain, and listen. I'll tell you a cool story."

As Stephen performed the painful procedure of removing glass from all over Clint's upper body, he recounted the story of how he became the sorcerer supreme. It was a familiar story for Clint, and that made it comforting. Nearly a half hour later, Stephen had treated the last glass wound Clint had suffered. Clint felt dizzy once again; the alley began to spin. He felt like he might pass out, but was roused from his light-headedness when Stephen gently shook him and said, "Clint, you gotta stay awake. I don't have any means to monitor your vitals, so the only sign that you are ok is that you are conscious."

"Sorry, sorry…" he said softly, before he trailed off into incoherent mumbling. Steve reassured him that there was nothing to be sorry about. Stephen took off his blood-stained rubber gloves and told Steve to lay Clint on his back.

"I'm just going to look you over to see what you've injured, alright? Can you tell me where it hurts the most?" Stephen asked Clint gently.

"My… left… ankle… and my… right arm… I felt… them.. crack… or something… after the blast…" Clint said between shallow breaths.

"Mmm… I was afraid you broke your arm… I could feel it when I was patching up your wounds," Stephen said as he moved down to Clint's ankle. He yelped in pain when Stephen felt it for fractures. The bone was very out of place. Clint was holding his breath from the pain again.

"Clint, I know it hurts, but you need to breathe…" Stephen said, "I have to set the bones in your ankle and your arm. It will hurt like hell, but it's worth it. He rolled up a gauze pad into a small wad and asked Clint to bite on it. Then he instructed Steve to hold Clint from behind, and to restrain his good arm. Clint clenched his teeth, his eyes tightly shut, encased in Steve's superhuman bear hug. He tried his best to follow the instructions of his gentle voice: "breathe, buddy, breathe."

"Okay, I'm going to count to three," Stephen said, "I just need you to keep yourself as still as possible. Ready? One… Two…" On three, Clint felt an excruciating pain as Dr. Strange pushed the bone back to it's original place. He cried out, he felt Steve's strong arms hold him tight to his chest. What was really fifteen seconds felt like five minutes for Clint. And the pain lingered, the relief wasn't instant once his forearm snapped back into place.

"Good, good, Clint. Breathe. Deep breaths. Stephen is just going to bind your arm with bandages and a splint now," Steve reassured Clint, "you're okay. You're doing good."

"It hurts… it hurts so bad…" Clint whimpered. Steve took another tissue and sponged the sweat off of Clint's forehead. Clint just wished it would be over. The pain wouldn't go away, it felt like he was being tortured. But he knew all too well that field medicine was way more painful than an anesthetic equipped infirmary, which he realized he might have been taking for granted.

"Ok Clint, I have to set your ankle as well. Just bite down on that gauze and hold still," Stephen said, "Steve, hold him very tight, but watch the arm. Ready? One… Two…" On three, Steve felt his heart break for Clint's pain as his agonized cries filled his ears. Clint's breaths after Stephen set the bone and proceeded to bandage it up sounded as if he came up for air after falling into arctic waters.

"It's over, Clint. Look at me. Breathe, take some deep breaths…" Stephen instructed Clint as he felt Clint's pulse, which seemed to be as fast as a quin-jet's rotor, "you're going to pass out if you don't breathe."

"Okay… okay… I'll… aw it hurts… it hurts…" Clint said between gasping breaths. He felt light headed, his vision seemed to be closing in, and he was hoping the cold and shaky feelings would go away. He laid there on his back, with his head on a towel and his legs elevated on Steve's knees. Stephen guided him through some deep breaths and, once he slowed his breathing down, let him take some small sips of water.

"No, don't chug it, Clint. Small sips," Stephen said as Clint started gulping down water like a dehydrated desert dweller. Just as Stephen expected, he promptly spit up the water his stomach didn't want to take all at once. He then laid back down on the towel and groaned.

"What do we do now?" Asked Steve. Dr. Strange popped his head out of the alley and looked around. He hailed a cab and motioned for Steve to carry Clint over.

"I recognize the area. Metro-General Hospital is just two blocks north. My friend starts her shift really soon. She'll be able to help Clint," Stephen said as he got in the backseat of the taxi.

Stephen lead the way to the emergency department entrance while Cap carried Clint in his arms. When they entered, Stephen spotted Christine Palmer- a surgeon he worked with a lot back in the day. She was behind the registration desk, taking off her coat and talking to a nurse.

"Christine! We need help!" Dr. Strange shouted to get Christine's attention.

"Oh no, did you get impaled again?" She said as she ran over.

"No, it's my buddy. He's hurt." Steve walked over with Clint in his arms, who was smiling weakly at Christine.

"I'll see what I can do. Tell me everything." Cap laid Clint on a gurney and Christine wheeled him down the hospital corridor.

"So, you're working with Captain America now? That's cool," she said casually as she pushed Clint toward the treatment room, "So, what have you already done?"

Dr. Strange explained how he tended to Clint's wounds and set his broken bones. "Some of those glass wounds might need sutures, I think. He's also got second degree burns, but I don't think they're too serious…"

"Put on a gown, Stephen, I'm going to need help," she said as they entered the treatment room. The two of them put on the proper attire while Steve gently laid Clint on the table.

"What's happening?" Clint said in a worried voice.

"Stephen and Dr. Palmer are going to look after you," Steve reassured Clint, "ok, he's signalling for me to leave. Later, Hawkeye."

Christine and Stephen got to work. Clint was given an IV to rehydrate him and relieve his pain, and Christine went on to stitch up his bigger wounds while Stephen wrapped up Clint's ankle and put his foot in a boot cast to keep it immobile. Clint was exhausted from this whole ordeal, so he decided now that he was in a hospital, he could get some much needed rest while others made sure he was okay.

He woke up later alone in a bed in the recovery ward. His burnt arm was wrapped in bandages and his broken arm was in a purple cast. He smiled, touched that Stephen considered his favourite colour while fixing his broken arm. Wait, where is he? Oh no.. where is he? Clint thought to himself.

Looking around anxiously, he saw Dr. Palmer walk by the nurses' station. Clint sat up and waved to get her attention. "Dr. Palmer! Where's Stephen? And Cap… Captain America?" He shouted across the ward.

"I'll call Stephen and tell them you're awake. How are you feeling?" She said as she walked over to his bed.

"I have a headache. Did I hit my head or something?"

"Yeah, you suffered a minor concussion. You're lucky. Do you want me to call Stephen and tell him you're awake?"

"Yeah, that would be great, actually. Can I take this IV out?" Clint asked. Christine said no and quickly took his purple-bandaged hand away from the needle in his arm. She then went to the phone at the nurses' desk and called Stephen. He arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes after.

"Yay! He's here! Can I go home now?" Clint said to Dr. Palmer.

"Sure, Clint. You seem to have recovered enough to go home," she said, then turned to Stephen and whispered, "he's your problem now."

"Naw, he's not much of a bother," Stephen said.

"Try saying that once you have to teach him how to use crutches," she replied, holding up a pair for Clint. Clint just bursted out laughing at the look of horror on Stephen's face.

"Look out, Stephen! You're travelling with clumsy, crippled Hawkeye now!" Clint quipped.

"If that's the case, let's hit the road, Cripples," Stephen fired back as he helped Clint out of bed and adjusted his crutches to his height.

"Thanks man," Clint said as they got ready to leave, "for doin' all that doctor stuff in that alley. The pain lingers, but hey, it could be worse."

"You're welcome, Clint. Wanna get some wings and beer at Jimmy's Pub? It's on me."

"Hell yeah," Clint replied as they walked out of the hospital together.


End file.
